


Detours From the Road to Ruin

by Just_Another_Day



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bondage, Canon-Typical Violence, Dubious Consent, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Sex doesn't fix everything, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-03 19:38:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8727646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_Another_Day/pseuds/Just_Another_Day
Summary: Three can keep a secret if two of them are dead, but killing never seems to be a straight-forward solution for Laurent.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning, this fic features dub-con of a similar nature to a good chunk of the other Omegaverse fics out there. Can you fully consent to sex when you know you wouldn't be capable of saying no later in the proceedings? These are the types of questions that should probably plague my conscience. If they plague yours, approach with care. The rest of the tagged warnings are more or less references to canonical events, so if you handled the Captive Prince books then you're good.

"It's an insult," Laurent hissed.

"Now, now." His uncle's tone was placating, as if attempting to calm a wild animal rather than addressing a future king.

"It must be answered," Laurent insisted.

"Answered with what? The truth? A confession as to precisely why the Crown Prince of Vere should take such umbrage at being sent a strong young buck to break in as a pet?" The Regent levelled a disbelieving expression at him. "As far as the Akielons are aware, their gift should be perfectly in keeping with our customs of males for males."

"Male _Betas_ are customary as pets," Laurent stressed. "Even the most idiotic of those savages must possess the tiny amount of observational skill it would take to notice that. We need to get rid of the slave before he can raise questions and cause problems."

"Laurent, really," said the Regent, "when will you finally make an attempt to learn diplomacy? We have just signed a treaty with Akielos. The slaves are visible indicators of the state of that treaty. While they are all alive and well, so is the treaty. Would you so quickly risk breaking honour when it gets back to Kastor that we have discarded the prize pick of his gifts?"

Laurent glared, but there was little point in arguing further.

"Truly, it is a boon that they believe our Prince is strong enough to handle an Alpha slave."

Laurent did not need to look at his uncle's too-perfectly-schooled face to know that neither of them actually believed that.

* * *

The play of candle light over the body oils highlighted the slave's sculpted muscles, especially the way they bulged as he fought against the restricting chains.

Even at this distance Laurent had to fight not to take the wrong kind of notice of that sight.

Several minutes earlier, when he'd perfunctorily announced, "They'll do," Laurent had meant to include the as-yet-unseen Alpha as well as the array of slaves lined up in front of him, Betas one and all. "My uncle's people will be by shortly to retrieve them," he'd said, and he'd hoped that he would from then on be able to wash his hands of the whole thing.

"But what of the savage one?" one of the other courtiers asked, seeming overly eager for a glimpse.

"They're Akielon. They're all savages," Laurent had observed.

"The wild one was hand-picked by Akielos's King for you to break and own. He will not be sent to your uncle," a handler had explained. "You'll need to personally decide what to do with him."

Laurent had little choice at that point but to allow himself to be led to see the most recalcitrant of the new slaves. Blatant refusal to go near a slave who was apparently supposed to become his personal pet would surely have prompted questions he couldn't afford to have asked.

Still, he hovered in the doorway, looking almost indecisive in a manner that was not quite befitting a prince, but which was unfortunately necessary. Some concessions had to be made. Stepping any closer would be even more unwise than refusing to come at all, especially among this crowd of vipers. He couldn’t afford for them to see the slave’s inevitable reaction to him. 

Then the slave lifted his head to look directly at Laurent, and it was all Laurent could do not to charge at him, consequences be damned.

He barely remembered the words that crossed his lips then. Something about breaking him (killing him) on the cross, he was almost certain. That was the only plan that made sense, the only way he could possibly respond to the Akielon King's choice of slave. Kill him, now. Even if Laurent couldn't get close enough to do it with his own hands without risking himself.

Six years of training, of planning, wasted over a blindingly obvious oversight. It was the kind of thing that only happened when Laurent let himself be ruled by his emotions; when he couldn't think.

Like now.

Except that suddenly he _was_ thinking, and surprisingly clearly, a single sharp idea cutting through the red haze of his anger and shock.

"Wait." He was hesitant in saying it, though thankfully no sign of it came across in his unwavering voice.

Perhaps he could never have met this man on the battlefield the way he might have hoped, at least not without exposing himself and potentially ruining his life. But here…

"Leave us," Laurent ordered.

Councillor Guion was not the only one to visibly balk, but he was the only person to speak up. "Your Highness, I don't think –"

"No," Laurent agreed, "clearly you don't think, or you wouldn't second-guess my decisions."

A narrowed gaze shut down further protests before they could be aired. The room was vacated, even of Laurent's own guards, within moments. A swift jerk of Laurent's head silently informed said guards that they should not hover within easy earshot in case of trouble. Jord's expression in particular reflected how little they liked that instruction, but Laurent knew that they would obey nonetheless.

Only once the door had swung shut did he take a step toward the slave. And then another.

He didn't need to smell the musk of Alpha exertion to know that he had crossed into scenting range. The sudden dilation of the slave's eyes and renewed straining against the chains would on its own have been ample indication.

When the Alpha saw Laurent for what he was, he whispered the Akielon word, " _Omega_." But here and now there was no army just waiting to carry that spoken secret back to enemies and supposed friends alike, as there would surely have been had Laurent faced Damianos of Akielos on the battlefield. There was just Laurent, impassive and unyielding as the stones surrounding them.

"Prince-killer," he replied perfunctorily in Veretian, and Damianos's rapturous surprise at being presented with a winsome Omega shifted in an instant to a different kind of shock. Even with his dark skin he looked suddenly ashen. Clearly he hadn't expected to be recognised so far from home. As if Laurent would have failed to memorise the likeness of the man who had cut down his brother, and whom he had sworn to kill in turn.

"Perhaps I should thank your brother the King after all," Laurent said. "Even before I recognised you, I had assumed the sending of an Alpha slave was meant as a grave insult or an attempt to cast suspicions on either my status or my supposed predilections. Instead, he has unwittingly solved the problem of how I could ever confront an Alpha enemy without having him outright reveal my secret for the whole world to know as soon as he got a single sniff of me. Here we are, alone, with no one to hear a word you might say against me."

"There are no Alphas in Arles," Damianos considered in perfect, if accented, Veretian.

"Of course not. By design. The last was my brother, who of course would never have told a soul about the way my scent was even back then starting to shift."

"No one knows about you." It was not a question.

Damianos didn't need to be made aware of the one other person in Arles who did know about Laurent, lest he think he had some kind of potential ally.

"No one knows about you either," Laurent replied, though privately he was somewhat doubtful of that. His uncle was surely too sly to overlook such a crucial detail. "Except for me. And your secret is far deadlier than mine, for I'm hardly the only one in Vere who wants the prince-killer dead. Though certainly I'm the one who wants it the most."

"Should I expect a sword through the heart at any moment?"

"Unfortunately," Laurent said, "at present there is still a Regency in place in Vere, and the Regent has decreed that all of the slaves from Akielos must be treated with utmost care. After all, we certainly wouldn't want to spit in the face of Kastor's 'thoughtful' gifts and risk starting a war, would we?" Laurent rolled his eyes. As if everyone in Vere weren't already perfectly aware of the Regent's plans to ultimately take Akielos for himself. But Laurent admitted that his uncle was right about one thing: timing was everything.

"So," Laurent said. "For the moment, at least, I believe that in Akielos this is what's known as a _stalemate_."

* * *

When the guards finally filtered back into the room at his request, Laurent's hand was on his knife. His own secret may be the less dangerous of the two, but he was loathe to trust in anything Akielon, even the Akielon sense of self-preservation, such as it were. The secret of the Prince-killer's identity might be more immediately lethal than the populace of Vere learning their Crown Prince was an Omega, but Damianos would have to be beyond idiotic not to realise that Laurent eventually intended to kill him anyway. He'd virtually admitted as much. So it might be worth it to him to ruin Laurent's life even if it meant cutting his own a little shorter.

Yet Damianos's lips did not as much as twitch. Not even when Laurent ordered that the slave be taught a lesson.

The way Damianos's eyes were locked onto his as he stoically endured the ensuing beating with little more than the occasional grunt had no bearing on how Laurent found it difficult to look away from the spectacle. Not at all.

No, Laurent stayed and watched as the guards landed fists and boots again and again purely because he couldn't leave this particular slave alone with anyone, even Laurent's own guards, in case he was waiting for the moment when Laurent passed out of earshot to share the secret. And the reason why his heart raced as he watched was only due to enjoyment at watching his brother's killer be hurt; if Laurent couldn't kill him yet, this was the least the faithless brute deserved in the meantime.

Or so he told himself, right up until he caught the tiniest flash of a self-satisfied smile on Damianos's face as their eyes met. He realised that the Alpha was treating the beating as a sign of his own strength, not Laurent's. That look said that he thought Laurent himself was subconsciously responding to it, as some weak-willed, swooning Omega might be expected to react to a brainless Alpha mating display.

Laurent wasn't. Of course not. That this disgusting Akielon excrement would even dare to presume…

"Clearly this is not making much of an impact," Laurent announced. "Perhaps the cross will wipe away that smirk."

It did. Laurent knew that because his eyes were glued to Damianos's face through every second of the torture.

* * *

The physician announced that the slave would live. Laurent didn't like to admit that what he felt in response wasn't exactly anger. Neither was it frustration that he hadn't managed to have the prince-killer killed. It was closer to resignation.

Even carrying heavy injuries to his back (well-earned and still far less than he deserved, Laurent thought), Damianos could not be trusted not to run at the first opportunity. So the problem now was that Laurent couldn’t leave his new slave alone, and he couldn’t allow him to have unsupervised contact with anyone, not even the brief contact with the servants who would be required to bring food and water if Laurent locked him away in any prison cell that was strong and isolated enough to actually hold him long-term.

It would have been so much easier if Laurent had just killed Damianos and faced the ire of his uncle and, ultimately, the whole kingdom of Akielos.

Instead, now he had little choice but to order his guards to bring the slave to his quarters.

This wasn't going to end well for either of them, Laurent was sure.

* * *

It should have been more of a surprise when he was summoned to 'answer for his actions' in front of his uncle. In another lifetime, Laurent might have assumed, blissfully ignorant, that his uncle would not embarrass them all by drawing attention to Laurent's treatment of his own slave.

The slave in question was ordered by the Regent to shed his top and turn around to display his back. The gasps that echoed around the room filled Laurent with self-righteous anger. If they knew the truth, they'd only be protesting that Damianos of Akielos still breathed after his whipping, not that he'd received one in the first place.

"A witness has claimed that you were deliberately trying to have him killed on the cross," the Regent announced.

"This was done to me on the journey from Akielos."

Every eye in the room swung back to the slave, this time to look at his face rather than at his flayed back. They were all disbelieving, Laurent most of all.

"Excuse me?" the Regent said.

"Your witness is clearly a liar," Damianos continued. "Yesterday I was delivered a beating with fists, that's true, but as soon as the Crown Prince noticed that the excessive pain the beating was causing me was due to existing injuries, he stopped and had a physician see to my back."

"There is no record that you arrived in Vere with significant injuries," the Regent protested.

"No," Damianos said wryly. "Apparently not everyone in this castle is as observant as your Prince."

Laurent finally recovered from the absolute shock of hearing such lies baldly uttered in his support, and from this particular source of all people. "I trust you see now the kind of casual insolence that prompted the beating I ordered for him? See how he belligerently mocks your position and your intelligence, Uncle."

The sympathies of the room had swung fully in Laurent's direction in the wake of this 'revelation', and there wasn't much the Regent could do to immediately combat the unexpected turn of events. After all, there was little point in claiming that the slave was lying. Why would anyone lie to help a man who'd nearly had him beaten to death?

Why indeed.

There was one reason Laurent could come up with, and certainly it wasn't one which would occur to the Council, though his uncle probably had similar thoughts coursing through his mind at that moment.

After what seemed like hours of sycophantic courtiers and Council members assuring Laurent that they had never believed he could have acted as his accuser suggested, Laurent's temper had shortened even further. So it should have been no surprise that as soon as he and his new slave arrived back in his quarters, he shoved said slave up against the wall, uncaring of the pain that must have speared through his injured back.

"I don't need you to protect me. This is not a children's storybook. I'm not some helpless Omega love interest, and you aren't the Alpha hero who sweeps in a saves me from the villain." _You_ are the villain, and there are no heroes, Laurent thought privately.

Damianos laughed. Actually laughed. "Believe me, no one who has met you would think for a moment that you're helpless. From what I've seen, you don't even need a whip to strip the skin from your enemies. Your tongue is a much better weapon."

"Neither do I need heaped praise from the great Damianos, prince-killer."

"Damen," he said. "You should call me Damen."

Incredulously, Laurent asked, "You want me to call the man who killed my brother by his favoured pet name?"

"Why not, when I am clearly to be treated like your pet?"

"Don't presume to think I would ever touch you like a pet, you filth," Laurent spat.

"I'm not presuming anything. Though your people out there certainly seem to be. Akielos was not full of so much open gossip."

"Of course not," Laurent agreed. "Gossip is a weapon for the intelligent, after all."

That same expression that had propelled Laurent to order a whipping on the cross appeared once again. "Well then, you must excel at it."

Laurent glared. "Don't do that."

Damianos asked, "Do what?"

Treat me like an Omega, he thought. "Try to woo me to your side with flattery and flirtation," he said instead.

The smirk didn't fade. "I wouldn't dream of it. I'm sure those two things are also the weapons of the intelligent, after all, and you've made it very clear that I couldn't possibly number among that crowd."

Laurent's hands became fists, ready to be swung. It was a pity they wouldn't make a satisfying enough dent to justify doing so. He doubted the resulting bruises would even really show on Damianos's dark skin.

"It would solve most of my problems to just cut out your tongue," Laurent mused aloud.

"Who would act as your witness then?"

"I told you," Laurent said, "I don't need a protector."

"Don't worry," said Damianos. "It's in my own self-interest as much as anything. You could have saved yourself from punishment today had you revealed who I am. I thought I'd better stop you from being backed into a small enough corner to make that necessary."

"You won't expect a thank you, then, if it wasn’t even done on my behalf."

"From you? Never," Damianos replied.

"You don't deserve my gratitude," Laurent continued, and wondered for a moment who he was trying to convince. He hated being in anyone's debt, let alone this man's.

"No," Damianos agreed.

"You earned every blow and then some. You killed my brother!"

"I did."

Laurent lapsed into silence, for it was difficult to fight with someone who suddenly wasn't trying to fight back.

"You really might as well start calling me Damen, you know. If you slip up and call me 'Damianos' where anyone else can hear, you can't expect people not make the connection."

"I'm sure I can get along fine just referring to you as 'the slave'," Laurent countered.

Damianos stared at him for a long moment. Laurent would have called it calculating if he didn't strongly doubt that the Akielon was capable of that. "If that pleases you," Damianos finally said.

Irritatingly, Laurent, who honestly hated slavery and all it stood for, was _not_ pleased by it at all. He fumed.

* * *

It was grating to be constantly in the presence of the slave – of _Damen_ , Laurent corrected himself bitterly, for although it was annoying to admit, he was likely right about getting used to the slightly less distinctive name. 

Unlike most Veretian nobility, Laurent found it difficult to engage in the intrigues of the court with a pet constantly underfoot, especially when the 'pet' was actually an unwilling slave. Damen already had enough ammunition against Laurent if he chose to go out in a blaze; he didn't also need to know about the measures Laurent was putting into place to counter his uncle's movements as well. Too much was riding on Laurent's ability to keep his real plans in the darkness. So it was a balancing act, then, between keeping Damen close enough to prevent him from speaking to others without being overheard, but still distant enough to allow for Laurent's words to go unnoticed at key moments.

The one time he lost track of Damen in public and found he'd been off talking to another slave, and then to Govart of all people, Laurent seriously considered executing him then and there. His story of the encounters was ridiculously thin, after all. Unbelievable that any prince of Akielos, the land that thought nothing of enslaving people in the first place, would ever actually care about a slave's well-being. Laurent called for Jord, the most loyal of his guards and one of very few who he might be able to trust with his secret if Damen did talk. Jord was instructed to guard Damen on his own to allow Laurent to finally get away from Damen's presence, just for a few hours, so he wouldn't be tempted to forget the consequences and strike out at his subversive slave. He'd sorely deserve it after clearly lying and risking both their secrets in the process.

Except Laurent quickly found that the account of the other slave in question, who clearly had not a lick of guile anywhere in his body, backed Damen's story up as truth. And then Jord, on Laurent's return, gave no indication that Damen had made even the vaguest implications about Laurent's Omega status. Much like the slave boy, Laurent very much doubted Jord could successfully conceal a thing from his Prince.

Well then. It was unexpected that Damen's word could apparently be relied upon, to a point. Unexpected, but potentially useful.

Damen had no idea what his apparent concern for the slaves from his homeland actually spurred on until much later, even though some of it was discussed right in front of him. Thankfully, it seemed that Damen tended to miss a lot of important information by not knowing to look past the face of the doublespeak. Despite being a prince himself, Damen was clearly not practised with the types of political intrigue that were rife throughout the Veretian court. So Laurent, despite having Damen as an incessant shadow, was therefore still fairly free to pursue his planning after all.

Of course, the chance of being restricted in his political movements was not the only problem with having Damen constantly in Laurent's presence.

His whole living area smelled of Alpha. Even his bedclothes, which Laurent was fairly certain Damen had never once touched (he'd _better_ not have), seemed to be steeped in it. He couldn't breathe without being reminded that he was trapped with a predator.

As it turned out, Damen seemed to think the same thing about him, Omega or not.

"Have you forgotten I challenged a man to try his hardest to whip you to death?" Laurent reminded him as soon as the attendant he'd ordered to leave had vacated the baths and left the two of them alone. "You're a fool to still look at me as if I'm prey."

Damen's appraising stare didn't rise from where it was trained on the translucent water at Laurent's hips. Laurent wished he could afford to scratch out Damen's eyes for daring to look at him, but after barely getting away with the whipping, it wasn't worth the risk. He would even have wished he could scratch his own eyes out to stop himself from seeing Damen's look, if only he could be sure that doing so would have prevented Laurent from reacting to being so admired.

"I look at you like you're an exotic jungle cat," Damen admitted. "Confident and sleek and potentially very deadly."

"I'm more usually compared to a snake, I believe. Those same adjectives would still loosely apply."

"Maybe in another life I'd have thought first of a snake, yes," Damen said, "like all of those people who assume you must be frigid and coldblooded. But unlike me, they don't know the truth, do they?"

Laurent's eyes narrowed at the implication. "My blood runs hot for no one," he warned.

Damen said nothing, but part of Laurent wanted to flay him all over again for the way the word 'yet' hung in the silence.

I'd kill you first, Laurent thought.

Just to be safe, that night he took double the strictly recommended amount of preventative herbs.

That way, the next time Damen looked at him, his body surely wouldn't be able to react at all.

* * *

All the herbs in the world wouldn't have mattered, though, on the night he was attacked.

Damen tensed moments after he let the body, throat cut by Laurent's knife, fall to the ground. Laurent could tell that he knew. Obviously he could smell it.

"You're due for a heat?" Damen asked, disbelieving. "And you didn't send me away?"

"Of course I'm not," Laurent bit out. "I have precautions in place to prevent a natural heat."

It took him a long moment, but eventually Damen's eyes shifted to the overturned goblet. His eyes widened. "You've been… But that would mean they knew to drug you specifically with a heat inducer."

"It could be that someone just took the opportunity to test a suspicion."

Damen seemed doubtful about that. So was Laurent. It was far more likely to have been someone who more than just vaguely suspected. It certainly made it difficult for Laurent to delude himself any longer about his uncle's intentions for him.

A painful spasm shot through Laurent's gut, causing him to curl into himself slightly. Close on the heels of that sensation was the less painful, but far more mortifying, feeling of wetness pooling against his thighs.

Damen's nostrils flared, his pupils dilating.

"Get out!" Laurent ordered desperately.

"I…" Damen took a halting step toward him.

"Take your chance, damn it. Leave. Make for your country if you want. I won't send anyone after you if you go now. The faster the better, because if you're caught running you'll be blamed for all of this." The faster the better, because it wasn't going to take long before Laurent's pleas for him to 'go' would become 'stay' and ‘come here'. Laurent couldn't bear that.

No sooner had Laurent said this than the Regent's guards burst in. And not surprisingly at all, they started accusing Damen of the attack. Laurent could have plotted out the whole script even before they arrived. In fact, he could have written their lines much more deftly. His uncle's men were clearly not overly bright, and had little idea how to handle Laurent defending his Akielon slave, claiming that he was the target rather than the perpetrator of the attack. 

At least there was only one Alpha nose in the room, Laurent told himself, so the others had no way of deciphering what was happening to him. It could have been so much worse.

The one Alpha nose belonged to Damianos, the prince-killer, he remembered. It couldn't have been worse.

All the while Laurent had to fight just to keep himself upright, and it was clear that Damen was torn between launching himself at either Laurent or the interlopers, though for different purposes. 

Laurent tried not to feel equally torn. However, he was still somewhat disappointed when the guards were finally sent away unscathed despite invading their territory.

His rooms, Laurent amended. This wasn't _theirs_ and it certainly wasn't territory. Laurent wasn't an animal.

He wasn't mindless, either, and yet he heard himself moaning, "Go, go, go," as if from a distance. Strangely, at the same time he seemed to be gripping Damen's clothes and pulling him closer, an obvious contradiction. When had they moved so near to each other? He forced himself to let go.

"They'll come back," Damen said, "or someone else will investigate. They'll find you like this."

"Then I'll play it off as a normal aphrodisiac and order them to leave me alone until it passes."

"You think most of the guards here wouldn't leap on that chance? They talk about you like you're a pet. It won't matter that they don't know you're an Omega, they'll use you just the same."

"Better some Beta upstarts who I'd be able to kill before morning than the alternative."

"Better rape than me, you mean?" Damen asked flatly.

"Believe me, it would be rape either way. But at least _they_ can't force a bastard child on me," Laurent ground out viciously.

For a moment it looked like Damen would attack him. His anger was palpable.

"Fine. Chains," he said.

Laurent blinked. "What?"

"Hurry up and get me something I can use to chain myself on the other side of your door."

"Don't order me around."

"You're kidding," Damen said.

Laurent really wasn't, but he took the point. It was probably not the right time to be worried about enforcing boundaries.

"Just chain the door shut and then get out of here," he instructed.

"Right," Damen replied. "Because when guards come along and see chains locking the Crown Prince inside his apartments, they're not going to react by immediately breaking down the door to check on his wellbeing?"

Laurent would have liked to voice a smart retort, but he found himself suddenly breathless. And curled up on his bed. He didn't remember crossing the room, nor lying down. He certainly didn't remember when Damen had come close enough once again to touch him.

"You carried me to the bed, didn't you?" Laurent asked, humiliated. Meaning he'd probably swooned like the worst kind of cliché he could imagine. The heat inducers had to be making this hit him worse than heat usually would.

Damen pointedly ignored his question, then pulled himself away as if doing so was taking all of his effort.

"Stay right there," Damen instructed. "Just tell me where the chains are."

Laurent pointed.

Damen made a face at having to willingly handle the tools of his captivity, but he did it all the same.

"What will you tell anyone that comes by and sees you trussed up?" Laurent asked.

Damen shrugged. "That this is my punishment for bringing trouble to your rooms. After all, I hear the attack was actually meant for me."

Laurent nodded shortly. Surprisingly, that would probably work. People seemed to expect that kind of treatment from Laurent. 

"If you break loose and open that door, I'll gut you before I let you have me," Laurent warned.

"I'm sure if that happens, I'll be too far gone on the pheromones to even think about fighting you," Damen agreed.

The sound of the door shutting and the chains grating against wood as Damen found something sturdy to wrap them around should have made Laurent feel safe. Instead, it just made him want to open the door. To check for himself that Damen was secure and couldn't get to him, obviously.

Never again, he promised himself as he undid the ties of his clothes. He'd sworn during his first heat at age fifteen and he was even more certain now: he would never allow himself to go through a heat again.

When he finally pushed his pants out of the way and sank two of his fingers in, the wet sounds of it were echoed by a groan, but not from Laurent.

Damen was too close, obviously. The wood of the door wasn't thick enough. He was going to hear – to _smell_ – everything.

That didn't spur Laurent on. It _didn't_.

His other hand wrapped around the bedclothes the same way they'd earlier gripped Damen's shirt, and a moment later he bizarrely found himself with his nose in those same sheets, as if that material was Damen's shirt after all, which would have allowed him to properly breathe in the heady smell of Alpha.

He'd thought days ago that his sheets reeked of Damen, but it wasn't true. Not really. Not enough to even come close to satisfying him now, at least.

Laurent tried to get up and find something that really smelled of Alpha to properly quell the craving (something like the actual source of the smell on the other side of the door, some surely self-destructive part of his mind suggested). However, he couldn't get his feet solidly under him, and Laurent, Prince of Vere, was thankfully not quite far gone enough to crawl across the floor like a pet. Like a pathetic _Omega_.

"Laurent…" beckoned Damen from the other side of the door, and now he was very glad his legs weren't working right, because it meant that in his sudden uncoordinated struggle to respond he ended up further tangled up in the sheets instead of successfully on the other side of the door.

"Go away," Laurent mumbled half-heartedly, meaning the exact opposite.

"You know I can't," Damen replied. "I'm chained here for you."

Something possessive curled in Laurent's chest. Laurent could imagine what it would look like suddenly: Damen, in self-imposed bindings this time, struggling to get to him rather than to get away. Given his dislike of slavery, it wasn't an image he ever expected to arouse him. But how could it not? Damen, the epitomy of Alpha strength, was chained _for Laurent_. 

His hand was unclenched from the sheets and on his cock before he even realised he'd moved.

On the rare occasion he indulged in touching himself, Laurent would usually start slow, trailing his fingers teasingly through the smattering of hair on his belly, then downwards, working his way up to tracing fingers along the skin of his cock and down around his balls. He wouldn't wrap his hand around and give in to the desire to give himself some proper relief until he was entirely desperate for it. Even then, he didn't let his fingers drift further backwards so he could pleasure himself like an Omega.

Today, though, he was desperate from the start. There was no taking it slowly, or pretending that he was just another Beta scratching an itch. He didn't even think about restraining himself this time. He couldn't have even if he'd tried.

He couldn't stifle the moans, or the slick sounds of his own fingers, three now, searching for and finding that spot that made him twitch and sigh.

His cry of, "Damen!" couldn't be held back either.

There was the sound of something cracking on the other side of the door, but the door didn't open, so it appeared Damen hadn't succeeded in breaking free.

He wasn't disappointed. He _wasn't_.

And yet.

"Please, I can't, it's not enough," Laurent found himself begging when the Alpha didn't appear.

A frustrated groan was followed by the word, "Laurent." Laurent had never heard his name drawn out that way. The sound of it made him even more desperate.

"Curl your fingers together."

What?

"Come on, do it now. All four of them, inside you, like the beginnings of making a fist," Damen instructed, apparently correctly judging that Laurent hadn't yet complied.

Oh. Like a knot, Laurent realised. For the first time he regretted shying away from the more explicit details of those particular instructional books when he was younger, because it was tremendously unfair that Damianos of Akielos should know more than Laurent about what he should be doing with his own body.

But apparently he did, because even just bending the uppermost joints of the suggested four fingers shallowly inside himself felt worlds better.

"Mmnn, too big," Laurent protested half-incoherently as he tried to work them further in.

"You can take it," Damen encouraged.

Laurent decided he could hate himself later for the way that tone made him want to prove himself.

The sounds that he was making caused Damen to make a loud choked noise in response. "That's it, right past the last knuckles, you've got it, you're doing so well."

When he managed to push all but his thumb inside, Laurent's exclamation was wordless, but it clearly spoke volumes to Damen, who distinctly sounded like he was coming in response.

Had that sound earlier been him ripping a hand free of his bindings, or had Laurent made him come untouched?

Just the thought of that sent Laurent over the edge.

Laurent's muscles finally relaxed as his cock gave one last pulse against his stomach. His vision, mostly whited out, came slowly back into focus, as did his mind. Laurent realised he was panting like a dog, like a beast. He ignored the sting when he roughly yanked his hand from his opening, abruptly disgusted once more by his body.

It was not a full heat, apparently, if he was cognisant enough to regret this already. He'd only ever had the one, but that in conjunction with what little he had read suggested heats lasted days with little reprieve and less conscious thought. This felt like it was over. It seemed strangely anticlimactic.

"Laurent?" Damen called out.

Your Highness, he wanted to correct, then felt a wave of almost-hysteria hit him at the knowledge that the use of a title would never be enough to effectively distance them after what they'd just experienced.

"Leave me alone," he ordered instead, finally finding the strength to sound like he meant it.

For a minute he thought Damen had heeded his request. Then: "I'd love to. Really. If you would just bring out the key so I can unlock the chains?" Damen suggested.

As if Laurent had any intention of letting Damen see him looking debauched and with his skin and bedclothes streaked with a mixture of slick and release.

"You're supposedly being punished, remember?" Laurent said. "Better stay there until morning so it looks authentic."

Damen's response sounded outraged and impotent. That made Laurent smile.

Laurent had feared that he would never feel in control of Damen again after begging for him. Happily, it seemed that he'd already managed to prove himself wrong.

* * *

In fact, as Laurent realised when he finally freed Damen the next morning (having already burned the soiled sheets in his fireplace in the hopes of the smoke also somewhat dissipating the smell of his heat), he'd never before had as much power over Damen as he now seemed to enjoy. Enjoy being the operative word, though he'd deny it until his dying breath.

Damen certainly wasn't acting like a typical Veretian pet, but neither was Laurent as worried about letting Damen get more than a few steps from him. It was highly unlikely he was about to go off confessing Laurent's secret to anyone when he couldn't take his eyes off Laurent long enough to actually engage in a conversation.

Some stupid biological part of Laurent wanted to preen and strut at the attention. He consoled himself that at least he could contain it to internal impulses. Based on the evidence, it seemed as though Alpha instincts made them outwardly act like idiots all the time, not just during heat.

Mind, the fact that Laurent could practically feel his uncle's eyes on him was helping to keep him in control of himself. Yes, he thought silently in the Regent's direction, that's right, your plot failed. Not only was the Crown Prince not murdered in his bed by supposed Akielon invaders, but he also didn't break the custom of not lying with someone where it could potentially result in bastards.

Equally, despite the circumstances surrounding the attack, it had also not been revealed that he was an Omega and therefore could potentially be viewed as unfit to rule. That was still a weapon for his uncle to use another day, he supposed, though the Regent had always seemed almost as reticent as Laurent to reveal it. Perhaps that was because neither of them could really be sure of the practical ramifications. It had never been an issue in the history of Vere, Omegas being so rare in the royal line, and in general, so there was no precedent. For all the Regent knew, revealing it could backfire on him.

As long as Laurent ruled alone, he should theoretically be acknowledged as being as capable as any King, though clearly it was something of a long-term problem that he could not sire an heir in the usual way of Kings. The bigger problem for both himself and the Regent was what would happen if he took an Alpha. Or, more realistically, if an Alpha took _him_. Announcing his status would be like declaring open season for attacks like the one last night, with any kingmaker worth their salt likely to try forcing a puppet Alpha on him so they could control not only the Alpha but any heirs to the throne Laurent would bear. The Regent would be just as likely to lose power as Laurent if the wrong person were successful in trapping Laurent that way.

Laurent had always thanked his lucky stars that his uncle wasn't an Alpha himself. The Regent would surely have made an exception to his usual age cut-off if it meant solidifying his power by being biological father to the heirs of Vere, even if he'd had to lie, cheat and bribe to explain away such clear proof of incest.

But in lieu of that possibility, it occurred to Laurent that the Regent might find a way to benefit almost as much in certain other circumstances. Say, if Laurent were instead to bear the child of his own slave, who happened to secretly be the true heir to the throne of Akielos, and then that child happened to lose both parents, leaving only Uncle to play guardian. 

He could suddenly see the breadth of genius behind his uncle's placement of Damen as his slave. Either Damen killed him, or Laurent was painted as a defector for being in league with Damen, or Laurent became pregnant by Damen and his uncle gained possession of the heir to both of the kingdoms he was so determined to rule. Win-win-win for the Regent.

Well, Laurent wouldn't give his uncle that kind of power.

It was a challenge to not spit such words in the man's face when, days later, his uncle pulled Laurent from his bed and had him before the Council to answer questions about his nearly-week-old attack before he'd even had the opportunity to properly wake up, never mind dress other than in his sleep clothes.

"You've seen me multiple times since then, and barely spared a thought to inquire about the circumstances except to note that I looked worn out," Laurent complained churlishly. "So this sudden desire for details could hardly be overly pressing. The fact that I was pulled unceremoniously from sleep despite that is certainly curious, don't you think? Especially when, as you remarked yourself, the ordeal left me feeling tired and needing rest."

He did spare more than a passing thought for the fact that Damen had been left alone and unguarded, but apparently he needn't have bothered himself, for after half an hour of repetition of the same questions and the same half-truthful answers, Damen himself was escorted roughly into the room.

"Do you honestly mean to deny your slave was involved in the attack?" the Regent asked, pointing at Damen demonstratively.

"I've told you, he was the intended victim." Laurent tried not to sound too bored by it all, but he'd lost track of how many times now he'd offered this same answer, almost verbatim. "That was the extent of his involvement."

"And for that you chained him to the outside of your door for the duration of the night? _That's_ what you were punishing him for? Not for daring to make an attempt on your life?" the Regent persisted. The Council and witnesses around the room were set to murmuring, for the slave being left bound in plain sight as punishment was new information to most of them.

It seemed Laurent would have to play to their low expectations of him. "That's right. Because of him, my sleep was disturbed," he sulked. "I've already told you how unhappy that makes me."

The Regent grimaced. "If that is true, you are a petulant child still, breaking your toys when something doesn't go your way." Out of the corner of his eye, Laurent saw Damen start slightly at being referred to as a toy. Or as 'broken', for that matter.

Keep your mouth shut, Laurent prayed.

"Certainly such a boy will not be fit to become King in mere months," the Regent speculated, and Laurent saw multiple nods from members of the Council.

"And if instead that is not the truth," the Regent continued, "and you are concealing an Akielon scheme against yourself and against Vere, that is even worse."

Ah. So it began. Now he was to be labelled a sympathiser.

He could see it coming before his uncle even said the words, and mustered his best indignant and incredulous (and, frankly, truthfully disgusted) response.

What he didn't foresee was how his uncle would use this to finally force his hand and get him out of Arles. Not until it was too late and he was left floundering under the Council's clear expectations that he would finally do his long-delayed duty in order to prove himself, with no viable option but to agree.

It was fine, Laurent told himself. He had been prepared for his uncle's plans to be brought to a head eventually, and had suspected the extent of those plans ever since his horse had been poisoned. Now was as good a time as any for it to begin.

He turned to Damen as soon as they were alone back in their ( _his_ , Laurent reminded himself) apartments.

"I'm coming with you," Damen announced a second before Laurent could inform him that he would be locked away alone in the dungeons for the duration of Laurent's absence.

"Since when do you order me?" Laurent asked, his voice steel.

"It's the only plan that makes sense. You can't go out there without me. You've carefully kept any Alphas from Arles so they don't run into you, but they exist in large enough numbers out there that you'll likely run across one of them sooner rather than later. By the time you smell them, they'll have identified what you are in turn."

Laurent scoffed. "That will be a problem whether you're there or not."

"You've forgotten that I can smell them too. If you assign me as your bodyguard, I can identify any Alphas in time to stop them from getting close enough to smell you. In that position, it would be expected that I would check out strangers before they'd be allowed anywhere near you."

Laurent stared. "That's ridiculous. Honestly. You could only be a less-qualified bodyguard for me if you were also unable to raise a sword. You want me dead. You want to escape. It's in your best interest to actually direct an Alpha straight to me and use the ensuing confusion to make a run for your border."

Seriously, Damen said, "Do you think I can't see what happened after you were attacked? Your people want to strike against my country in my absence, and you seem to be the only person standing in the way of that war. Better for Akielos to remain under Kastor indefinitely than it be completely destroyed by a war it's currently not united enough to win. I would protect you with my very life to stop that from happening."

"Whatever you think transpired between us the other night, I still don't need your protection," Laurent said. Apparently he had to repeat himself nearly as often with Damen as with his uncle.

"Then protect yourself!" demanded Damen. "Stop hiding behind obstinacy. Your uncle would help you if only you'd be honest with him about the attack."

Laurent laughed humourlessly. "There are three people in this castle who would know to target me with a heat inducer. I certainly am not going to dose myself, and you clearly had no opportunity to access the drug. Would you care to guess who the third person is?"

Damen didn't need to say it. The realisation was clear on his face.

"The Council –"

"– would never even entertain the truth of it without proof," said Laurent. "I have none, and I can't even provide to them the main reason why suspicion should fall primarily on my uncle without also revealing myself."

"Isn't it better to be known as an Omega and be safe here than to pass as a Beta and be killed on the border?"

"No," Laurent said with finality. "It's not."

Damen looked strangely sad at that. "Being an Omega doesn't make you weak."

"Easy for an Alpha to say. You weren't the one whose body made you beg for your enemy to come fuck you."

"Wasn't I? I seem to remember calling out for you several times."

 _I'm_ not _your_ enemy, Laurent nearly retorted, and then nearly bit his own tongue to hold that ridiculous thought back. When had he begun to think like that? As if he were even the slightest bit neutral towards Damen despite Damen being his brother's killer? As if Damen could trust Laurent even though Damen himself was a faithless Akielon savage who could never be relied upon?

I will kill you, Laurent thought as vehemently as he could, but even he didn't find it entirely convincing.

It was his body again, Laurent reasoned. He'd imprinted on the Alpha scent due to Damen's constant proximity, maybe, or the obsequious little Omega part of him was deluding him into believing he was linked to the Alpha who had been so near to him during heat. It certainly wasn't the rational part of Laurent that would ever consider allowing Damen to come to the border with him.

On the other hand, if Laurent's Omega instincts were going haywire, it was likely that Damen's Alpha instincts were still behaving similarly. Laurent could use that against him.

"How could I trust you not to run at the first opportunity?" Laurent asked wearily.

"I'd never get across the border and regain full control of Akielos in time to effectively combat a full-blown war from the north," Damen admitted. "It's in the best interest of my country that I stay with you."

'For now' went unsaid but was well heard.

"Besides," Damen said, "given your uncle's ultimate plans, there's even more reason for you to let me go with you. I know the region, and I know strategy. I wouldn't just be there to keep you alive. I can help you _win_."

Laurent did not agree in words, but the following day he organised for Damen to be armoured.

* * *

If they ran into any Alphas early in their travels, Damen apparently had managed to waylay them without letting on to Laurent about their nearness. The idea that Damen was still trying to protect him, and from necessary information in this case, was somewhat infuriating, but without more than suspicions all he could get Damen to say about the matter was that they had so far been lucky on that count.

Laurent's luck came up much shorter in other respects. In the upheaval of dealing with lack of sleep, fine-tuning upcoming battle strategies, dispensing with a harmfully disingenuous Captain, and remoulding a fractious mixture of soldiers, it took Laurent perhaps three days to realise that his herbs had gone missing from the pack he'd meticulously placed them into before leaving Arles.

It had to be his uncle at work again. He doubted that whatever hired hand he'd told to retrieve the sachet from the Prince's bag even had a clue what they were taking, only that his uncle had paid them well to do so. Though even with the added distraction potentially increasing the likelihood of Laurent making mistakes and getting himself killed, it was surprising that his uncle would gamble with Laurent going into a heat out here. Perhaps he was getting more impatient than Laurent realised, making him willing to take greater risks with less likelihood of reward. Laurent certainly hoped that was the case. His uncle being somewhat off his game would be the one positive thing about the messy situation he'd just stumbled into.

He had no idea how long it would take for the herbs he'd already taken to fully wear off, or whether he could expect his heat to follow any kind of natural progression after spending years indefinitely delaying it. It could happen anywhere, at any time.

Laurent remembered telling Damen in the castle to take his chance to run. He could do that again if he felt it starting to come on. But then, Damen hadn't listened last time, and worse, he also seemed to feel like he had much more of a reason to stay now.

Besides, this wasn't the castle at Arles. Laurent couldn't just lock himself up in a secure place free of Alphas, where the worst possibility was a Beta raping him because he looked pretty and was suddenly vulnerable where he'd usually be untouchable. It hurt to admit it, but Damen was right yet again. There might be an unknown number of Alphas in their vicinity, and the scent of his heat would surely travel further and be more distinctive than his everyday Omega scent. Letting some passing Alpha of dubious origins have a child by him was unimaginable.

There was really only one thing he could do.

"We have to get to Acquitart as soon as possible," Laurent announced as he entered, before realising that it wasn't just Damen but also Jord inside the tent, jointly waiting for him.

"What? You already decided that an extra two weeks of training was the minimum," Jord protested. "You said that more time would be preferable, but cutting it any shorter will put the whole campaign at serious risk."

Damen said nothing, but looked just as confused as Jord.

Laurent had rarely felt so frazzled. He didn't do well when his emotions were raging and he knew it. He couldn't think clearly. He hadn't expected to have to explain himself to Jord.

"Leave." It wasn't Laurent who gave the order.

Jord looked gobsmacked at Damen's gall. "Excuse me?"

"Your Prince clearly needs some privacy to consider his plans," Damen said, with all the command of a prince himself. Well, Laurent thought, that rather made sense, considering.

Jord, under heavy protest, did eventually depart, letting the tent flap fall shut behind him with a definitive slap.

Damen said nothing, just waiting.

"My herbs have been stolen," Laurent was finally able to say, keeping his voice low to prevent the words from travelling to any prying ears outside. "I could go into heat at any time unless I get more. There are ingredients that can't be sourced locally, and the only place I know for sure I can get some is my stockpile at Acquitart."

Damen's breath left him in a rush. "We can't just run off to Acquitart. Every one of us will likely end up dead if we don't spend this time preparing."

"I know," Laurent admitted. "Of course I know that. But what else am I supposed to do? My uncle always finds a way to win."

"Don't let him."

"Yes, because real life works just like that," Laurent reproached. "I can't just use my willpower to avoid going into heat. And I have no idea when the herbs will wear off, so I can't even try to find a place to hole up until it happens. There are vital things that need doing during this time on the road, and I must be there to do them."

"If we can't prepare for it, then don't. We'll deal with it when it happens," Damen said calmly. It made Laurent want to wring his neck. How could he be calm when Laurent was going to have to go through another heat, something he'd just promised himself would never happen, and when it would probably be even worse, or longer, or both, than that recent shadow of a heat?

"And if it happens in the middle of an ambush on the road," Laurent said, "or in an inn half-full of rowdy Alphas?"

"We'll deal with it," Damen promised again, which was really supposed to mean that Damen would deal with it. Laurent hated himself for the fact that the mental picture he had of Damen tearing rival Alphas apart with his bare hands actually somewhat comforted him.

Laurent told himself that he'd be just as comforted by the thought of himself tearing Damen to shreds, if only he could stop picturing tearing into just his clothes for long enough to properly imagine the more violent aspects of it.

* * *

Training was difficult enough without the paranoia of going into heat at any moment. Every slide of sweat near his thighs caused a jolt of instinctual panic before he could take stock of himself and assess that, no, that slight slick feeling wasn't the herald of anything drastic.

Apparently he was putting on a good face about it, though, because none of the soldiers seemed to be discussing him as anything short of a brutal dictator (or rather, a dictator who they happened to want to fuck, but Laurent had heard that kind of talk for years now and it had nothing to do with them having any sudden inkling that he was an Omega). Even Jord seemed to have forgotten the circumstances of their peculiar aborted meeting, or at least he hadn't pressed for an explanation.

The journey into Nesson-Eloy and the meeting with his contact had seemed to go more or less to plan, although Laurent had privately resolved to cut a few key appendages off Damen for being so familiar with Laurent's person while they were in disguise and then on the run. The ambush of the camp and the near disaster of the rock slide were not to plan, but the losses were far more manageable than they might have been under other circumstances, and they had come out the other side mostly intact and ready to move on.

Laurent started to feel some manner of hope that he'd get to Acquitart before his heat could strike.

That was his mistake. He should have known better than to hope. It was a lesson long since learned, after all. It had been just as Laurent was starting to hope that the battle at Marlas might really go Vere's way that his brother had stumbled and been struck down.

The barbarian who did that was now looking at Laurent with wide eyes that confirmed what Laurent's body was already telling him.

There was nowhere to retreat. They were camped off the road, not on the edge of a town. Laurent wasn't sure if that was a blessing or a curse at this stage. There wasn't a solid shelter, but it was also less likely that there would be any Alphas nearby.

Except one, of course.

Go, Laurent half wanted to order, but it would be a useless effort. Damen was not going to run now without seeing their plans through and seeing his own country saved from the Regent's warmongering. After their experiences over the last day, Laurent wasn't sure he could afford to lose Damen as a strategist either. He didn't know what he would do if Damen left.

Maybe he didn't want to know.

It should feel like giving up, not like giving in. But it seemed dangerously inevitable.

This time there were no chains to tie Damen in place, nor any heavy doors to separate them. There were limited strategies available for preventing this from happening if Laurent did say no. And yet, far more so than when Laurent had those things to hide behind, this still felt like a conscious choice.

Instead of pushing him away, Laurent reached for Damen's hand.

"Well?" he prompted, as arrogantly as he could manage under the circumstances. He didn't have to say anything else. Laurent knew that Akielons were undoubtedly moronic savages by and large, but Damen at least wasn't fool enough to have to question Laurent's intentions.

Their hands slid together. It wasn't at all obvious who was leading whom back to their tent.

* * *

"I could still go," Damen offered. "I might not be able to smell you from outside the camp. I could control myself then. And I could patrol for other Alphas."

"I'd find you," Laurent said with certainty. This heat, being the real thing, would probably last for a span of days, not hours. He'd try not to let himself, but this time Laurent knew he would eventually crawl if he had to, as far as he had to. He wouldn't take the chance of the soldiers who needed to fall under his authority seeing him like that. He couldn't have Damen see him like that, either. Not and keep his respect, which seemed oddly important to him just now.

"You called it rape the last time I offered," Damen said.

"It would have been, then. But this time I'm making a choice."

"Not really. You have no options."

"I do," Laurent said. "They're not all ideal, granted, but I'm choosing the best of them."

Even though Damen had killed his brother. Even though this was the man whom he'd been desperate to torture to death not so very long ago. This still felt like the best choice Laurent knew how to make.

They were always heading towards this. Not necessarily him being in heat. Laurent would have preferred if that had never been an issue between them. But even as he was ordering a whipping that he wasn't sure Damen would live through, he'd wanted him on a visceral level. Now that he actually had grown to understand the man's mind, he wanted that as well. Laurent hated him still (or he thought and hoped he did), but it was secondary to how he craved him. He'd never experienced that kind of desire before. He'd never expected to ever, to tell the truth, given everything.

Laurent was well-controlled most of the time, but he knew he would never have been able to hold himself back from this forever, with what he wanted perpetually dangled before him within easy reach. He wasn't even sure anymore that he _wanted_ to resist.

"Attend me," Laurent said, by now a familiar command.

Damen didn't protest being addressed like a slave in this situation. Either he was too used to it by now, or, preferably, he simply understood what Laurent was doing in issuing that order.

I'm in charge, Laurent was saying. Not you, not my body. Me.

He knew his own body, his Omega instincts, would soon steal his control from him, but almost unbelievably, he found that he trusted Damen wouldn't try to do the same.

As Damen undid the ties at Laurent's wrists, he bent down and placed his lips to the newly unveiled pulse point. His eyes flicked up in question even as his tongue licked lightly against Laurent's skin. Laurent didn't fight against this evolved definition of being attended to. He rather enjoyed it, actually.

It was, it turned out, a slower descent into mindlessness than the plummet caused by the heat-inducing drugs. By the time he was completely undressed, the slick was just starting to spill onto his thighs, but there were no sudden cramping explosions of pain-pleasure-want. He could probably still send Damen away if he wanted, he realised, even now, as those lips that had pressed against each patch of skin being uncovered then found the growing trail of slick and followed it upwards.

He could, but he had no intention of stopping this when he finally felt as if he had Damen right where he wanted him. He writhed against Damen's mouth and didn't care for once about the spectacle he must be making of himself.

Although most of the heat went by in a haze, Laurent remembered the first time nearly perfectly. Damen, having temporarily had his fill of the taste of Laurent, soon pressed his fingers inside and found him hot and wet and already starting to get frantic for more.

Laurent couldn't even muster shame at the way he clung to Damen. Had Damen tried to leave now, Laurent would have dragged him back down on top of him before Damen had even managed to make it two steps away, and then forced him to continue drawing this steady crescendo of moaning from Laurent. Laurent was too far gone to stop and he knew it.

"Damen," he cried as Damen finally thrust in once and then paused deep inside him. The name sounded like a prayer to a god. Or, more fittingly, a supplication to royalty.

"I've got you," Damen said, and for once Laurent did not protest that he could take care of himself.

"Then have me already," he demanded.

Damen chuckled and obeyed.

Laurent clawed at Damen's back, heedless of the scars, in response to the stretch and depth of the thrusts. He quickly grew impatient with the speed, though, and spurred Damen on with a, "Come on, didn't I tell you to fuck me already?"

Damen accepted that challenge gamely, and Laurent eventually had to fight to hold on both to Damen and to his self-control as his instincts starting screaming at him that, yes, that was what he'd been needing, a strong Alpha with a thick cock who knew how to stroke past that spot on each inward spot, just… like… that…

"Damen," Laurent begged, and Damen seemed to understand what he meant.

It was like a wild race. They grabbed and stroked at whatever part of each other they could reach. When Laurent reached to stroke his own dick, Damen looked for a moment like he'd slap Laurent's hand jealously away. Instead, he wrapped his larger hand around Laurent's and let Laurent set the quickly escalating pace.

"You're mine," Laurent claimed, as if challenging Damen to contradict him. "Mine."

"Yes."

Damen, wisely, didn't echo such a claim verbally, but it was obvious and, at least in that particular moment, undisputed.

Damen let out a desperate grunt, and then his lips were at Laurent's neck, and what Laurent expected to be an adoring open-mouthed kiss instead morphed into a possessive bite. He wanted to protest this treatment. He wanted to beg for more. He did neither because he was busy letting out a full-throated yell and bucking into their combined grip. The feeling of the bite combined with the sudden swelling of Damen's knot had Laurent coming, hard.

Damen slumped comfortably against him, his solid body shuddering against Laurent in time with the pulsing of his knot. They stayed that way, in strangely companionable silence, until Damen was able to pull out. Laurent grabbed at him, reluctant to let him move away, then was very briefly annoyed enough at his actions that, were he in his right mind, he would have shoved Damen away instead. He didn't need to cling, though. Damen seemed more than willing to be pulled closer, even as Damen's lessening knot fell free of Laurent's body.

The knot. That's what he'd been missing last time, substituted fingers aside. That's why he needed an Alpha, his instincts reminded him.

Shut up, Laurent told his inner Omega. He didn't need an Alpha.

Or, he only needed _this_ Alpha. It was hard to tell anymore.

"I don't think the soldiers are going to have any more questions about whether we're fucking," Damen pointed out. "They probably heard you three towns away. I'm actually a bit surprised no one burst in here to make sure I wasn't actually murdering you."

"Shut up," Laurent said aloud this time, and those words felt far more satisfying aimed to a corporeal target.

Damen acquiesced easily. He buried his face in the unbruised side of Laurent's neck, inhaling his scent deeply, and fell asleep in what seemed like bare moments. Laurent, in his last moments of real coherency for the next two days, was surprised by how willing he was to follow Damen.

* * *

"I hate you," was the first thing Laurent voiced when he woke up late on the third day.

Damen tiredly grunted his acceptance, even as his lips trailed along Laurent's shoulder, sending a shiver through him.

"You hate me too," Laurent reminded him pointedly.

"Sometimes," Damen said honestly, and then even more honestly: "I try to."

Laurent could certainly commiserate with that.

Laurent looked down at where Damen had rested a proprietary hand against Laurent's belly. "Remove your hand or it will be removed from your arm," Laurent said. It came out sounding ridiculously mild instead of threatening.

Damen didn't move. Laurent could not motivate himself to do anything about it.

That was going to be a problem.

"You know, all of your efforts to save my life are more or less worthless to you now," Laurent informed him.

"You're wrong about that," Damen countered. "Your life is worth a lot." '… to me' was the silent addition.

"I'll likely never be King now," Laurent continued. "In the space of days I've broken an important Veretian custom, and if I'm with child, well, we’re not all as lenient about such things as Akielos is. Not to mention the effects on my own perceived status as a legitimate male heir if I bear a child myself."

Damen propped himself up and looked seriously at Laurent. "Do you truly feel like less of a man now?"

No. Laurent was surprised by that, he had to admit.

"And if you carry a child, will that experience suddenly rob you of your sharp mind and sharper tongue?" Damen asked.

Laurent glared.

"You're more than capable of being a worthy King," Damen said. Laurent fought not to react to this display of confidence in him. "You have the maddening ability to out-talk and out-manoeuvre just about everyone you're ever likely to meet. So if it does happen that your people seem unwilling to accept you as you are, change their minds."

"How nice it must be to live in a world where every problem can be solved by sheer force, whether of will or of body. Do you really think it would be as simple as that?" Laurent asked.

"Nothing about you could ever be simple," Damen conceded. "But you Veretians seem to be in a class of your own when it comes to everything being overly complicated. I'm certain you of all people can handle it. And you certainly wouldn’t have to worry about our child being left to be declared a bastard."

Laurent pushed down the quick spike of pleasure at that thought. Instead, he sighed. "Regardless, they won't accept a child with divided loyalties as heir to the throne, even setting aside the particular identity of its Alpha parent. I doubt Akielos will be willing to allow their heir to eventually sit as Vere's ruler, either."

Damen was silent for a long, thoughtful moment. "Akielos and Vere were once one kingdom."

"There's been years of divisive bitterness since then," said Laurent. "You should know, being the recent cause of a great deal of it."

His brother's killer. Now his lover. Perhaps the father of his child. It was hard to reconcile, even within himself.

"All the more reason to be part of the solution," Damen said. "You know, my father did always advise that I would be best to marry royalty from another kingdom. He was certain that such a marriage was the most secure way of solidifying alliances. He may have been onto something there."

Laurent snorted, willing for once to give a less than dignified response considering he was presently sprawled naked and boneless on come-stained bedding, and had therefore clearly already left dignity far behind.

"And if I don't want to marry you?" Laurent asked.

Damen just pulled him closer, against no real resistance. He tangled a hand in the golden strands that Laurent had long since realised Damen seemed to like very much. Laurent should rightly fight against being caressed like a lover. He leaned into it.

Their kiss was chaste compared to what little Laurent could remember of how they'd practically attacked each other over the last few days. It wasn't overly passionate, nor some great show of Damen's undoubtedly highly-practised skills in that arena. But it felt like a promise.

Damen breathed against Laurent's lips. "Then I'd say that's just one more thing we'll have to work towards."


End file.
